


Two Player Party

by rosemallows



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) Actor RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Kissing, Dorks in Love, Drug Use, Love Confessions, M/M, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-09 20:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19483450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemallows/pseuds/rosemallows
Summary: There are three things a party needs to be a party: drugs, alcohol, and stupid teenagers.If that is the case then why mope about not being invited to one when you could just as easily throw your own personal festivity?





	Two Player Party

**Author's Note:**

> i still need to finish Crystals.

There was not exactly anything else to do on a Friday night, or at least a night that involved other friends. On the last Friday before summer break hit their school, Jeremy was acutely aware of the achingly roaring nuisance of the party just down the street- gone on for a few hours too long.

Their ears were sorry vulnerable victims to the sound of hollering teenage boys, swishing beer in the hands and searching for girl to fuck.

He’d wondered how police have not been contacted quite yet. Michael’s eyes and ears were trained more so on the wide, high definition screen ahead of him rather than a festival of reckless partygoers. His fingers roughly jammed into buttons and shoved aside the small sticks. Jeremy was slightly more ginger with his movements— though it may have been due to not wanting to break any of Michael’s expensive video game equipment, or perhaps because he appeared to be clearly distracted by either the slice of pizza he balanced in his other hand, or the roaring music piercing through the thick basement walls.

Fresh–out–of–the–shower–Mell stayed in utmost focus, teeth gnawing down on his bottom lip as he calculated the best moves and attack combos to defeat the two’s opponent. It was an old game created by the same company that produced Apocalypse of the Damned, maybe one of the first three games they’ve created? He lay a couple feet away from Jeremy after gradually getting more invested into each level, so much that he’d become hypnotized by the screen. The thick, midnight locks he had were still slightly damp, and his white shirt still a bit sodden from quickly throwing on clothes while not completely drying off. His hair had become extremely wavy by now, all over the place and _frizzy_ without proper brushing. Clearly, he did not feel the need to tidy up his mess of a hair for Jeremy.

Easily–distracted–Heere was a bit of a different story; while he moved around his character, his ears were eager to join in on the party down the block, thrown by Katrina– another girl with stacks of money and a dangling rope of horny teenage boys. And, albeit he wasn’t considered one of the well known kids around his school, he longed for the days where he’d socialize with those snotty kids with ease. Hanging out with Michael was _never_ excruciating, but dealing with a short ache in his chest while his friend crawled away from him to focus on video games _was._

Maybe getting a girlfriend at a party could have made that pain dissipate.

He snuggled beneath the shelter of a light grey hoodie (Michael’s basement was extremely cold, how could anyone possibly survive without a winter jacket?), old Adidas pants and two mismatched socks. Jeremy wasn’t in the mood to move– he chewed on a to-go pizza from S’barro that had gone cold, while fidgeting greasy fingertips on the buttons.

“C’mon, man! You’re getting your ass kicked!” his best friend hurried.

He was still a ways distant, mumbling back in response- the party was extremely intriguing, with the thought of being able to somehow obtain a girlfriend, but Michael was intent on finishing this level. Two of the characters on the screen were scrambling to rip apart what seemed to be a thirty-foot creature of alien ascent. One of the characters- burly and unrealistically muscular, was striking rapid combinations of combat, and with each hit hailed an excited whoop from Michael, while the other player’s health was deteriorating rapidly with every hit the monster threw at him.

Eventually, the characters were overtaken by the in-game antagonist’s strength, leading to heavy disgruntlement from the Asian/Hispanic teen. He paused the game, then peered over his shoulder at the Italian halfheartedly gnawing on his pizza, and quirked his eyebrows upward, clearly wanting an explanation.

“What?” Jeremy demanded, muffled by the crust that filled up his mouth. “I was playing, man!”

“Dude, I know you don’t suck _that_ bad,” he replied. “What’s up? What’s on your mind?” He set down the controller, approaching a spaced out Jeremy, and hopped up onto the couch, crawling til’ he plopped right next to his friend.

Jeremy Heere glanced at Mike’s curiosity peaked face that hovered near him. His dark, circular spectacles were scrutinizing every bit of his face, he was sure-- and perhaps _that_ provided the burning pink hue spreading throughout his cheeks, nose, and face. He picked his gaze elsewhere, gritting his teeth at himself and quietly beating his mind up for acting oddly.

The screaming match outside continued to flourish– accompanied by feverishly drunk girls who encouraged the boys playing beer pong. And quickly, that cappuccino-haired teen turned his gaze to where he believed the noise was accumulating from.

“Huh. What a loud party,” he merely commented along with a shrug of his shoulders. Mell tsked at him, then rolled those eyes trapped behind the barrier of his glasses.

“Was it the party? Gosh, Jere, see I hope you’re not moping about not being invited, because, we’re never invited to those things, y’know? You can’t change it. We’re destined to be losers for life,” he chided with a faint grin. The other simply passed a peeved look and put down his S’barro and controller.

“Yeah Michael, _I get that,_ ” he mumbled out. “I wish you’d stop reminding me. It’d be nice to be able to go to at least _one_ party . . . Might change my life somehow.” His friend’s expression shifted to that of guilt.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Mike leaned back onto his heels, then raked a clammy palm through his untamed, Grudge-like hair-- for such short hair, it was awfully _thick_. Jeremy pondered his hair products that were able to stick down those mess of inky locks to a prettier look. “Yeah, I’ve thought about going to a big party before. But, uh, I always stop because then I imagine myself getting nervous and then full on panicking, haha. Erm, sorry- getting off-topic- no uh- Hey! We can do something cool. There are three things a party needs to be a party: drugs, alcohol, and stupid teenagers! We could have a party of our own, want that?”

Jeremy had fluffy brunet locks which bounced ever so slightly at the tip of his head, and were better taken care of that entire day than Michael’s unruly hairs. He scoffed, shoulders pushing out, body jerking as it stifled mocking, sarcastic giggles- “Sure.” His orbs switched to meet his best friend’s.

The white shirted teenager pursed his lips at that unenthusiastic reaction. “I’m not convinced but I’m doing it anyway. Hold on.” He bounced up from the couch so suddenly, and whirled around, just to dig into a big (what looked like) Arizona Iced Tea designed vase sitting upon one of the glass side-tables.

“Micah, what’re you doin’?”

“Giving us a party, what else?” came a muffled grunt as he pried full arms into the decor. Jeremy watched with intensity, head tilted and his legs crossed childishly on the light tan couch. He wiggled his wool layered toes together, awaiting the other to be finished with his errand.

“Mind giving me an explan-”

“Here it is!”

Out popped an overexcited seventeen year old, with a smile so wide and mischievous, and eyes scrunched up with glinting connivity. In turn, the other caught sight of the items gripped in both hands, which summoned another shining smile to light up the basement.

In his right- a Pokémon themed lighter, and the left- a galaxy patterned glass spoon pipe.

“. . . Seriously? Galaxy?”

“Shut up! You wanna toke or what?”

The brunet scrutinized each movement of his friend’s movements, as he was not quite an expert when it came to the handlings of marijuana as he was with inhaling it, and settled for watching from afar. His own pale, skittish fingers drummed lightly against the front of his sweatpants. He stayed on his knees, ocean tinted eyes trying to identify each step.

Michael ground up a nub of cannabis- discarding the stems and pouring the remaining, succulent contents into the bowl portion of the pipe. He spared a glance to his one viewer, and gleamed with pride. Then, he turned fully to face the awe-struck audience member and flicked on the Pokémon lighter- emitting a small, bright orange flame that somehow was the perfect key to their private party.

His animated digits brought the flicker near the bowl, quietly burning a piece of the green plant while simultaneously placing his lips on the mouth piece. The pair’s eyes latched onto one another, summoning a grin from the both of them, and a small chortle from Jeremy, as he inhaled deeply. For a few moments, Heere witnessed with hefty fascination at Mell’s lengthy exhale of white smoke, accompanied by a satisfied laugh that Jeremy was content with listening to. The smell was quite prominent, but all of it just fueled their ultimate delight in carrying out a mischievous mission that would surely cause their parents great anguish.

His fingers passed on the pieces, and at once, Heere had mimicked the other’s original movements.

He took a hit; short, but not utterly disappointing since he _did_ properly inhale, and blew out significantly less than Michael, who clapped his hands sarcastically. Jeremy Heere chuckled, and joyously told him to shut up, while shoving his shoulder aside.

He simply beamed, despite the hard jab. It was effortless to tell that the small, longing teenager was beginning to forget that party’s irksome, strident howls.

* * *

At one point, Michael Mell had incredibly managed to grab ahold of Coronas- which, he knew was not an ideal combination- but it _was_ their two-player party, and getting disgustingly shit-faced was the ultimate goal. The pack was left on their couch, while they moved their chortling festivities to the floor. _Mac and Devin go to High School_ droned on in the background, replacing their tired video game and giving the two some background noise. Originally, they sat a few inches away from each other, cracking up or tsking at the movie obviously intended for viewers stoned out of their bodies. Somehow, they ended up on the floor while Wiz Khalifa was floating about down the high school hallway and Snoop Dog was asking about that song in his head.

They allowed themselves to be face to face, with their knees touching alongside, and a thick blanket spread underneath their bottoms to protect themselves from the frigid stone. Heere settled for heightening his occupied mind, while Mell gravitated toward guzzling down some beers.

He sucked down much of the amber liquid, observing his buddy’s rosy, sweet cheeks, and upturned lips and sleepy, sleepy eyes. Jeremy’s laugh stirred with the air, blending along with the screeching party teenagers, yet at the same time louder than all of their one-dimensional personalities. He poured himself over the Filipino, talking into the denim of his jeans, floating head pressed into his kneecap. Michael slowly expelled a slow breath of air at the touch of his friend, and stared ahead at the wall. Their sensation was mind-blowing, yet he feared to move, not knowing what Jeremy’s next move would be, and not sure if he’d enjoy the absence of him being quite touchy with him.

“It’s funny how _dream-like_ this feels . . .” the teenager breathed out. Michael released a noise of agreement. Jeremy, without looking, extended a limb and (consequently) touched a glass of his already opened Corona, grabbing ahold and slowly pushing himself off of his friend. He tipped much of the contents into his pink hued mouth before setting it down farther away from them and cascading back down onto the alluring comfort of Michael’s legs.

Getting high and drunk simultaneously, they were aware was a tragedy unto itself, yet, their minds were not quite _rational_ in the moment.

Jeremy’s mind was far less anxious, and swirling with many incredible verbal possibilities that did not have to require an intense amount of energy. He felt . . . _compelled_ yet _free_ to spray out the words present on his mind- _eager_ to do _so much_ , and sprint somewhere and engage in an activity that he would never consider when he was sober. There were a million “yes”’s ringing in his head- _Say “yes!” to everything! Do something bold._

He figured that was the alcohol.

There were a few long moments as the movie went on longer and he slowly lifted his head from Michael’s knee again, lidded eyelids blinking innocuously at his red tinged skin.

“Michael?” he said- the sound of his own voice caught him by surprise, due to not feeling like he was quite in his own body. Rather, he felt as if he was watching from afar- a window from beyond his mind- a viewer of a movie that suddenly heard his own voice in a movie he’s never seen before.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, but he muttered out a, “Yeah?” to his quietly nimble voice.

There was a fiery circus milling about in Jeremy Heere’s abdomen- or perhaps an army of Monarch butterflies that relentlessly moved, advising the teenager strongly against the notions that popped up in his constantly moving brain. But the THC smugly grinned at his natural human functions and neurotic mess of winged insects, insisting that they take over every bit of anxiety that remained in him, and sedate his expeditiously paced mentality.

And he let his eyes roam the prisoners behind the jail of Mike’s rounded glasses. He exhaled softly, then laughed lightly at the sound of nothing. Before the rational bit of himself could dare input his own opinion, he spoke with jolting confidence.

“I really, really like you.” His eyes remained glued to those excellent, cocoa, mocha coffee swirled irises, ones so deep and odd and strange- they were collected in the shape of his wondrous almond eyes, like some crazy complex latte that Jeremy would hit himself for never exploring further. There was a delay in his friend’s response, which consisted of a soft simper and pretty-wide eyes.

“Yeah?” Mike breathes, or mumbles out, his face bright, ruby tinted cheeks just suddenly a couple of inches near Jeremy’s. Perhaps he was not extremely rational either, but he felt compelled to say something too, to bask and drink in the delight of those words which he _swore_ would have a harsher effect on him if he was sober.

Jeremy had another intake of marijuana, exhaling into his excruciatingly near smile. Michael’s orbs then flicked to every bit of his pale pal’s exterior appearance. There he was, so light and away- round doe like eyes that were painted a harsh, icy-oceany aquamarine. All of that natural beauty was hidden by the background of a harder pink-- his red _red_ eyes, with heavy purpleish grey bags beneath the red and aquamarine. Those eyes of his were so pink and red and gorgeously blue that Michael had to swallow it all up. The rest of his face held soft, sweet features- with acne and acne scars that jarred sections of his jaw and temples. His nose bridge was straight, with a rounded tip scattered with the faintest bit of brown freckles, so pretty and incredibly wonderful. Freckles, or constellations– Michael wouldn’t be able to tell the difference; they were a pretty part of his soft features.

His lips were the brightest shade of firey red, maybe like an autumnal pile of leaves? And his untouched eyebrows gently framed his gentle structure.

Mike’s face became feverish and a blushing red, stricken by awe at the sheer amount of desire and love he had acquired with this boy. All of it had slowly torn him apart, deteriorating his brain and seizing the chambers of his heart. A colony of fluttering bugs made home in his intestines, also experiencing shortness of breath whenever he’d see his grinning, white–pink face and naturally curly gold-brown tresses.

“Oh God,” he mumbled so helplessly while staring madly back at his drugged state. In retaliation, he forced his gaze away from that enchanting look, instead boring holes into the pack of Coronas. Jeremy’s head tilted forward just slightly.

“Hm?” he asked, which pressured Mike to look back at him. Jeremy’s mouth crooked up again, a gentle smile and blushing freckles- at Michael actually looking at him, every bit of his features.

“I want to kiss you,” and it’s another exasperated breath, that smelled of nothing except marijuana, and five words that sweltered Michael’s skin- so hot and so _red,_ he was at a loss at what to do.

His lips dropped, mouth unsure what to say. His lower abdomen boiled with warmness, and Jeremy’s face was painfully near his own, he wonders how _light_ Jeremy is that he has allowed himself to _say_ all of this. He thought about how out of it he clearly is, and his shaking mouth and rapidly beating hearts awaited a proper move.

“I want to kiss you a–and talk to you all the time and be able to be us for a long time. I’m so stoned out of my mind right?” He laughed again, brows arched up in what looked to be a nervous one. His smile was shaky, and his cheeks were so _flushed_.

"Jeremy,” Michael mumbled, alcohol and weed in his brain, unable to think of a smarter, more clever and conniving sentence to display his astonishment. “You said– kiss me?”

He blinked, owlishly, and then came again his sheepish, teeth stretching smile.

“No I’m– I’m high–stoned. Because I want to kiss you.” He allowed his tense expression to move closer again.

He was bewildered, a tidal wave of all things excitement and anxiety throwing around in his skull without his permission-- everything about this was so _so_ comical, but so intense, and he could _not_ decipher which part was the good part.

“That’s why you’re high? So you can kiss me?”

“No, gah. It’s like I’m out of my body, but also not– everything is in motion but not and God it feels like I’m in a dream– but we’re just high and, you’re right there, all okay and you’re not kissing me.” Jeremy looked absolutely desperate- eyeballs wandering about, mouth opening and closing so much that his teeth clicked. As a coping mechanism, his hands floated up to wrap around his best friend’s neck, and he skittishly chuckled once more. “I’m as high as the clouds.”

Michael let his eyelids flutter shut, a slow laugh coming from his mouth, and sluggishly pressed dry lips to Jeremy’s forehead. “Relax. Let the weed calm you down, this is all good.”

“I’m never coming down.”

“Gosh, dude.” Michael’s teeth grinned into his skin.

Jeremy pulled slightly back, then lifted his lips, next to Michael’s face, stared right into his eyes and breathed slow and steady with the most exasperating, soft and raspy, “Kiss me.”

Michael’s eyes were dazed, but also a bright, bright red and he was so focused on all of this boy, _every bit_ , that it was killing him so bad yet so _wonderfully_.

“Ooh what? You’re still on that whole kissing business?”

The pretty ocean eyes lingered on Mell’s gentle, rough lips, staring with such a longing that absolutely made the boy notice. He could not control the incredible hot red sensation of his cheeks that kept reappearing that night.

The brunet could not handle the unbearable tension, and was so _desperate_ to _feel_ something- anything incredible and beautiful and _colorful_ and better than a shitty party.

He cupped a hand to Michael’s face, tugging the last bit of space between them to a close and gathering his miraculous mouth into his own, as if he’d been craving all of it. He made a soft noise, gently nibbling the prettiness of his mouth that invokes a glorious sigh from the other. With such force, he accidentally pushed the Ecuadorian onto the floor and Jeremy helplessly scrambled with such want on top of him to savor every bit of his mouth. They pulled, and pulled, and his mouth lustfully tasted each kiss Mike pushes back.

It tastes like beer and burnt plants and Michael’s hands are like fire on his skin when they explore the bit beneath his hoodie.

“Dude,” Michael breathed out just when he parted his lips from him a moment. His glasses were knocked askew, and it gave ample time for the intoxicated Jeremy to watch his free eyes and genuine smile. Mike was utterly breathless, legs straddled on either side of his hips.

Heere laughed- chuckled, _nervously_ and awkwardly. He pressed his forehead to Michael’s, breathing quite heavily. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry . . .”

“What? What? No don’t, don’t,” he mumbled, fingers crawling up Jeremy’s back that it fires up Jeremy’s whole body. “Jeez . . .” And his hand bunches a fist in Jeremy’s hoodie, his other hand still stroking the side of his body that it makes Jeremy catch his breath. With that, he pulls the smaller teen back into him, clanking teeth together and another “Sorry!” gasped from the both of them together before they chuckled awkwardly and proceeded back into their clash of kisses.

Mike dragged his lip oddly so, sucking his lips and pulling his body so much closer to his that their hips rocked clumsily against each other. 

But then Jeremy turned his wet lips to the side of Michael’s jaw, and brushed against the soft, thinness of his neck, and Mell inhaled a breath of tension.

“Good?”

“Yes, gah- fine!” laughed Michael as his lips pressed into the side of his neck. He was practically _sweating_ , hiding his forehead into the crook of Jeremy’s shoulder as his jugular was tickled with odd, unfamiliar kisses from Jeremy.

Now, it felt _good_ , but odd, and strange and Jeremy began to use his teeth to drag softly into his skin which encouraged his partner to squirm at the new sensation. Suddenly, Heere bit _hard_ into his neck which summoned a shocked yelp from the other, causing him to jerk his head back with absolute embarrassment.

“S-Sorry, Michael-”

“No, you’re okay!” he responded, cupping his hands breathlessly around Jeremy’s face and encouraging him to look at him. His expression appeared endearing and soft, yet still bewildered with the amount of kissing they’ve done, and it filled Jeremy with a new swarm of butterflies all over again. “Fine. It’s okay. Completely perfect.”

Jeremy’s giant doe eyes focused intently still on those lips, but before he could react, Michael moved ahead, letting his hand touch the back of his neck, and pull him in again for more airless kissing.

The pale boy created a soft, contented sound, his hands climbing up the other’s jawline as he grabbed ravenously at his hot lips. Mike’s fingers weaved their way through brunet, honey locks, brushing through utterly interminable hair, with each thread to getting caught in his grip.

At once he grasped a hold of that hair, gently tugging, causing Jeremy to tilt his head back into that pull and exhale in pleasure. He caught eye contact with Michael’s shyly content grin.

“Please,” Jeremy huffed, digging his chin into his best friend’s shoulder blades. They kept their hands on one another, lingering burning hot prints on the other’s skin that led to stripping each other of their top articles.

Jeremy’s hands took Michael’s face into his hands, licking deeper into the space between his lips that offers a strangled, desperate moan from Michael– it’s incredible, and his hands keep exploring his bare sides, heating up every part of his torso and practically making him internally scream for something more.

“Jer…” It’s soft, like a quick gasp, and they’re both under an intense spell that makes them both unable to resist each other.

In amidst of their entangled limbs, Mell had managed to crawl atop Jeremy, and unintentionally rolling his hips amongst _his_. Their eyes enlarged a fraction, and Michael snickered so apprehensively. Jeremy and Michael looked down at one another, in between themselves and- “Oh!” they both exclaimed, burning up at themselves, and the heat of the room. Their curious gaze, sweaty and flushed, scrutinized one another, and they each kept nervously _laughing_.

“God, oh God, oh God,” Mell stammered, then let his body hover above his friend’s. “I . . . I don’t think I’m ready for . . .”

“It’s totally fine!” the other blurted. “I know. I-”

“But dear fucking God you making out with me like that is absolutely destroying me, you know,” his teeth gnashed. He let his fingers roam Jer’s bare stomach, and up his chest, pressing more marijuana blessed kisses to his collarbone.

“Hell, Mike,” Jeremy swallowed, uneven breaths, “I know.” His completely blue hued eyes were bright and blinking, and they inspected the few marks tattooing Michael’s neck and his bruised, saliva smothered lips. His glasses were somewhere on the floor, and their hairs were a glorified mess-- result of rolling around on the ground and consistent hand-hair exploring.

Michael hovered breathlessly above him, trying to catch his breath and clear his heated mind from the event that took place. He could not stop the contented laughs from spilling out, no matter how hard he tried, nor could Jeremy, whose fingers stroked Michael’s incredibly soft face.

“That– so that…” Mell began, blinking soft, chocolate irises at Heere.

“I’m,” he paused, still drumming fingers on Michael’s jawline. “We’re shirtless.”

“That we are.”

“Was that crazy?” sheepishly spoke out Jeremy. “That wasn’t just stoned–me speaking, you know. I’m still, fully here, still here— I’m uh– I do… I– God I really fucking like you so bad… it’s so bad it hurts.”

Michael’s eyes were still sparkling, as if he was enchanted by that short sentiment of words. “I’ve… I’ve had these feelings for so damn long, Jer,” he pushed out. “I didn’t think I’d, I’d get the chance to, tell– tell you.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened incredulously. “What? Why not?”

“Because I thought you were the straightest dude ever!” he exclaimed. “You like porn, and video games and–”

“But _you_ like porn and video games.”

“I know but–” Michael caught his words. “You couldn’t tell I’m gay?”

Jeremy stared into his beautiful, beautiful face, shaking his head slowly. They moved into a position where they just both straddled one another, enough to focus their eyes completely on each other, rather than carrying their own body weight.

“I figured that one day I’d move on, swallow up all this heartache and maybe just sometimes pretend you’d be kissing me, on my bed, and dancing alone, pretending that you were with me, and pretending that it’s real. Eventually maybe I’d... get a girlfriend.” Jeremy shook his head.

There was a silence lingering in the air, sparing the now muffled music and just chittering voices rather than screams. The movie ended, and the two’s thoughts were shared allowed.

“If you want… this can be real…” Michael offered, capturing his best friend’s attention.“Us. You and me dancing together and kissing on your bed. That could be real, from now on.”

Jeremy let a smile split open his mouth, and stares longingly at Micah’s wild hair, round and somehow almond shaped eyes and grand smile. “That’s an offer I’m not willing to let go of.”

Michael laughed, bridging the short distance between them for a quiet, gentle and sweet kiss that’s genuine and emotional. Jeremy shut his eyes, embracing this collision and savoring it all.

He could still taste that lingering marijuana flavor, and knew that he wouldn’t mind more late night smoke sessions, if it gave them the aftermath of heartfelt conversations and gentle kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> Realistically, the boys would have a hell of a cottonmouth. But I forgot to include the struggles of making out when your mouth is completely dry.


End file.
